Fall for Anything
by whimsycality
Summary: Michael's POV of season three Liz, set to Fall for Anything by The Script. Dreamer with one sided Polar leanings. Angsty. Part of the Universal Language series.


**Title:** Universal Language

**Spoilers: **All of Roswell is up for grabs

**Disclaimer:** I own absolutely nothing, all characters and original Roswell settings belong to other very lucky people as do all songs quoted.

**Pairings/Couples/Category:** UC/CC/AA

**Rating:** Mature

**Warnings:** There will be references to death, sex, violence, and the use of adult language, as well as plenty of angst, but nothing too explicit. If needed, more specific warnings will be posted.

**Summary:** Collection of unconnected ficlets inspired by songs that make me think of our beloved Roswell. They are all (so far) written in first person and will have multiple characters POV's, reference both CC and UC pairings, and may or may not be safe for fans of any pairing or character, lol. Each ficlet will have its own summary and warnings posted in an author's note.

**A/N: **This first ficlet is Michael's POV of Season Three Liz, Dreamer pairing with one sided Polar leanings, not necessarily nice to Max or Liz or heck, even Michael. Also, angst factor is high. Song is by The Script.

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><p><em><strong>Fall For Anything<strong>_

_Don't keep yourself away, don't live your life that way_

_Of course, he's gonna say anything you want_

_Then leave quicker than he came, now you got yourself to blame_

_Don't put yourself back in the fire again_

Does she know how hopeless she looks? Does she realize how unrecognizable she's become? What happened to the girl who backed us into an alley, refusing to let us throw away our lives because of her? What happened to the girl who didn't let anyone walk on her, including _him_, who never backed down, who never gave up, and who fought for what she believed in regardless of whom it set her against?

Because this pale imitation makes me want to shake her until something resembling life appears in those once expressive, now dull and tired brown eyes. Lying, hiding, cheating – all of those have become par for the course, for all of us. But armed robbery? Hardly a necessary part of the alien abyss, and definitely not something the logical Liz Parker of two-years ago would have ever considered.

I miss her.

_It's the same damn thing you're so quick to believe_

_You do it over and over again_

_And it's the same mistakes that I'm watching you weep_

_You do it over and over again_

I can't stop watching you; it's a habit I've long become accustomed to. And now, now it's like a train wreck; you can't look away no matter how much it horrifies you. No matter how much you wish you could stop it, and know you can't.

He almost left you, left you without saying goodbye. He didn't say goodbye to me either, but I didn't expect it; I've learned better. When will you? I saw the look on your face, the devastation, and the tiny flicker of anger before you suppressed it. You didn't use to be afraid of anger; you didn't use to fight your own feelings. And you sure as hell wouldn't have accepted his behavior before, so why now? What changed? What turned you into this spineless rug? Or should I say whom?

You took him back. You forgave him. Oh, you pretended that you wouldn't, almost took a stand, almost remembered who you were. But it was pointless; he cried, promised he would change, and you fell for it. Again.

_Oh, please don't be so naïve, don't wait 'till your heart bleeds_

_Love wasn't built for speed, listen to me girl_

_He keeps fuckin' with your head, tryna get you into bed_

_And in the morning you'll just hate yourself_

He tells you that it's over; that he can move on, can forget about his son with another woman, that from now you are all that's important. Until the next clue, the next contact, the next little boy who draws a spaceship, the next shred of hope. Your eyes are empty as you nod and smile and let him kiss you, wrapping yourself in the heavy blanket of your fated love, blind to all else.

I've read your journal; I know how much you respect your father, how much you treasured your close relationship. But now, when even the oblivious parental eyes can see that you are a shell of your former self, and who's responsible, you ignore him. You tear down your already fragile remaining relationship in favor of the boy who treats your heart as his personal punching bag; who, if your honest with yourself, hasn't acted like he loved you in so long you've forgotten what it felt like.

If you don't snap out of this, if you don't pull the old Liz out of a hat, it won't just be your soul that dies. You've taught yourself not to feel, to not care, to pretend with shiny smiles and rebellious acts, while on the inside you are a blank slate. I know what that looks like; I own a mirror. But you haven't learned how to turn those feelings back on, and when you do, you will break the mirror for showing you who you've become

_Before they bring you down_

_You've gotta stand for something or you'll fall for anything_

_No, you'll fall for anything, no you'll fall for_

_You've gotta stand for something or you'll fall for anything_

_No, you'll fall for anything, no you'll fall for_

Your body knows the truth, even if you don't. It knows that he's killing you, bit by bit. It tried to tell you, to show you, what you needed to get rid of, who you needed to get rid of, in order to live again. And you even listened, for a while. You left, and as much as I missed you, or at least the old you, I was happy, because you were finally free.

It didn't last though; your attempt to reclaim your spine, your spirit, your identity as someone other than Max's Liz, failed, miserably. He almost killed you, and not slowly, but violently and permanently. You were given firsthand evidence of what your life is going to be like now that you've come back. Not that you didn't already know; it already killed your best friend, something I know you haven't forgotten, just repressed, because if you think of him, you won't be able to continue your puppet like existence.

I hope your lies to yourself no longer sound so believable. I hope that your brief glimpse of freedom lingers in your mind, pushing you to try again, to try harder, to succeed. Because if you don't, I'm going to spend the next however many years watching you fade away, a slow, bloodless death. Because I can't leave anymore than you can – I'm well aware of my hypocrisy – and watching you give up might be the death of me as well.


End file.
